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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251082">I Don't Like It Here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets'>MostWeakHamlets</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fly Wives Cottage AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale is a Foodie, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Drug Use, Other, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Summer Omens, beez is a foodie, prompts from tumblr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:28:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An extension of Rotting Apples and Wilting Flowers: Beelzebub and Dagon are trapped on Earth for a year and find a secluded cottage to stay in. </p><p>Prompts from the Summer Omens event on Tumblr!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fly Wives Cottage AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you haven't read the first fic (the one lonely chapter that's there), then you may not 100% understand this fic. Basically, Beelzebub was kicked out of Hell for a year by Lucifer for the Armageddon mess. Dagon chose to follow them and find them a place to stay in the South Downs. </p><p>Powerless and depressed, Beelzebub has to cope. </p><p>Every chapter is written from a prompt list on Tumblr by thetunewillcome. I'm posting these little one shots on my own Tumblr as well (mostweakhamlets) if you'd like to see them there as well. I probably won't get to every single prompt during this, but I do have some ideas outlined! </p><p>And this chapter: minor blood warning. Nothing major. Just a little cut by glass.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Dagon let the water rush over her feet and then back again as it receded back into the ocean. Her feet sunk into the sand and were covered again by another wave. It was a bit cold, but she could handle it with a little adjustment to her body temperature.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She longed to dive in and swim around until the sun officially set. It was an instinct, she believed, due to her fish-like biology she was granted during the fall. She wanted to sprout her gills and scales and walk in until she was fully submerged under the water and stay there for hours.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon turned around to the person who kept her from doing it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub watched from a distance, arms wrapped around themselves and shivering. Dagon left the water behind and walked to Beelzebub's side.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Are you cold?" Dagon asked. "I told you to bring a jumper down here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A navy blue jumper was suddenly in her hands. She handed it to Beelzebub who gave her a quick, dirty look before shoving it on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I didn't think it'd be this cold," they said.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"The water makes everything feel cooler. Especially this time in the evening."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She had been to the beach many times since being trapped on earth, but she had always gone alone. Beelzebub had spent most of their days in bed or laying on the sofa, staring at the television or sleeping. Dagon had only managed to convince them to come that evening with a promise of a nice dinner after.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I suppose this means you won't swim with me?" Dagon asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub shook their head, another shiver wracking their body. Dagon stroked their cheek with her thumb. It would be alright. Maybe during a heat wave when they desperate for some relief, she could coax them in the water. But a cold, wet fly was a miserable fly. And Dagon didn't like her little fly to be miserable.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We can sit here," Dagon said. "Just for a little bit. And then we can go back inside for dinner."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Only for a few minutes?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Only for a few minutes."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A blanket that didn't exist a minute ago was spread out, and they sat together. Beelzebub shoved their feet into the sand, kicking it up and making a little pile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon watched the waves come further up on the beach. July was only a few weeks away, and she was sure that Beelzebub would be easier to get outside. Even if it was just to sit in the garden for an hour or so rather than becoming one with the furniture inside to stuffy, hot house.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon tucked a lock of black hair behind their ear. They didn't pay any attention and instead stayed fixated on the sand. They had an impressive pile building up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They used to be so motivated. It was nearly impossible to tear them away from their work. But now, powerless and banned, all of their energy was sapped out of them. Their only interests were in eating (now that they were familiar with hunger pangs) and asking Dagon to sit with them during their silent, depressive episodes. And of course Dagon made sure they were well-nourished and didn't grow lonely, but she also longed for the old Beelzebub, powerful prince of Hell, to come back to her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Ow!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub jerked their legs back onto the blanket and grabbed their left foot. Dagon could see a shallow cut on the sole. In front of them was a shard of brown glass sticking out of the hole they made.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"This is why I hate it here," Beelzebub grumbled, sounding angry and also as if they were choking back tears.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Let me see." Dagon took their foot and tutted at the tiny bit of blood welling up. "It's small. It's hardly anything."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I want to go back."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub began to stand, favoring their right leg. Dagon quickly grabbed them and lifted them in her arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Can't you just heal it here?" Beelzebub asked. "I can walk back myself."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"But then I don't get to carry inside. You're like a damsel in distress--a prince in distress. Let me save you."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub huffed but wrapped their arms around Dagon's neck. They watched the beach as they retreated. It was so quiet and large and empty. The ocean went on forever, and the sand, now their enemy, stretched as far as they could see.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Dagon?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yes?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I don't like the sand."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon sighed. "I understand."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ice Cream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The relationship between Dagon, Beelzebub, Aziraphale, and Crowley still isn't explored in the first fic, but uh... surprise! They tolerate one another and being supernatural entities on Earth can be exhausting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Dagon knew that it wouldn’t be the smoothest outing of their time on Earth, but she had gotten along fairly well with Aziraphale and Crowley once they had all made peace. As much peace as they all could after thousands of years of torment on Hell’s end and one traumatizing farewell to Crowley. The traitors had promised they had no intention of harming the demons (a relief as Beelzebub now had no power over Crowley who was both physically and supernaturally intimidating to them) and were only interested in a quiet life alone--with exceptions to help Beelzebub and Dagon adjust so long as the pair played fair. There were awkward, tense dinners and afternoons in one another’s gardens before they were all comfortable enough to bury the proverbial hatchet. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Beelzebub looked at themselves one last time in the mirror. Dagon had convinced them to wear a pair of jeans out rather than their typical full suit. It was far too hot for such an outfit, and even Dagon had toned down her usual look in favor a grey t-shirt and light trousers. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“It’ll be good for you to get out of the house for a little bit, and the traitors promised that we’ll enjoy where they’re taking us.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I don’t trust them,” Beelzebub said, looking at their floral, short-sleeved button-up. “And it’s called <em>sloth. </em>We’re demons. We’re supposed to embrace and enjoy doing nothing.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“It’s called depression, and I know you’re not enjoying laying in your own sweat and filth for hours every day. Probably. Maybe you do.” Beelzebub <em>did</em> like their filth, but Dagon doubted that their recent habits were motivated by enjoyment. “And I don’t trust them, either.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Then why are we going?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Because it’s something to do up here, and the angel wouldn’t let me say no.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You’re a Lord of Hell and you couldn’t say no to a principality?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I’m as much of a Lord as you are a Prince right now.” Dagon regretted snapping as soon as Beelzebub clenched their jaw and looked back to the mirror. “And he’s not just any principality. He’s immune to Hell fire and stopped Armageddon. He must have done something to not let me say no. A mind trick or something.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>In reality, Aziraphale had just used his pushy charm and insisted again and again that she couldn’t say no, that he and Crowley would plan the trip, and <em>how does Wednesday at noon sound to you, dear? </em>Before Dagon knew it, she had solidified a date and time and Crowley looked amused. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Where are we going?” Beelzebub said. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Not far from here. If you’re uncomfortable, we can turn around.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Beelzebub nodded. “I’m uncomfortable.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I meant if you’re uncomfortable once we get there.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Fine.” </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale had rambled for a good 10 minutes about how beautiful the old quarter of the town was, how nostalgic for the 19th century he was in the middle of it, and where all the divine places to dine were. Crowley listened with a sappy expression. Beelzebub tuned him out. Dagon actually took mental notes for future reference, though she didn’t acknowledge him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I hope you don’t mind walking,” Aziraphale said after finishing his one-sided discussion on the cafes. “It’s a lovely day, and I insisted on enjoying the weather.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s fine,” Dagon said. “Beelzebub needs the exercise.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub only responded with a huff. Crowley snorted and smirked until Aziraphale said, “Crowley did as well.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By the time they arrived to the Old Town, they had drifted back into silence. Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look and a smile and lead them into the narrow streets of shops, pubs, and cafes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub would never admit that they enjoyed looking into the windows of shops and seeing the various things on display--odd dolls, old books, and various knick-knacks selling at high-prices. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A lot of it is to get tourists to waste their money,” Crowley whispered to them as Aziraphale stood by street musicians, listening with a wide smile and hands clasped together. “Humans are gullible when it comes to this type of stuff.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub smirked. “So, humans are taking advantage of other humans with useless shopping?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sort of. But it makes the other humans happy. They sort of know they’re being taken advantage of, and they don’t mind it if they can be happy in the moment.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The smirk disappeared. “Oh.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But it is still... pretty evil. It’s capitalism at its worst if you ask me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you have anything to do with it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yup.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon entered a shop with Aziraphale to look at secondhand books. She hadn’t taken to leisurely reading books yet (only gossipy tabloids), but was secretly interested in looking into them. She was used to pouring over paperwork in Hell, and with her new free time, she longed for something to hold in her hands and consume for hours on end while Beelzebub slept or moped. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are looking for?” Aziraphale asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A book.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, we’ve walked into the right shop.” He laughed at his own joke, perhaps one he would have told to his own customers if he had actually enjoyed their presence. “What do you want to read about is what I’m asking.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are books about?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale lifted a hand to his chest and sighed. “Anything you can imagine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then find me something about death.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale’s smile became tight, but then relaxed into something a little ornery. “Luckily, humans can be just as morbid as demons. I think something historical would suit you. How do you feel about tyrannical rulers?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know most of them.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let’s see what they have, then.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand as they strolled down the street. “What do you say to a treat?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Crowley followed his gaze to an ice cream parlor a few shops down from where they currently stood. He turned around. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you two know what ice cream is?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon and Beelzebub shook their heads. Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. </p>
  <p>It sounded appalling to Beelzebub. Cream that had been turned to ice? They didn't like the sound of that. And what was its purpose? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We <em>have </em>to now, dear. The poor things have never had it. Think of the disservice we’d be doing to them if we didn’t--”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We can get ice cream, angel! No one said ‘no.’“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Crowley turned back to the confused demons. “Do you <em>want</em> to try it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon and Beelzebub looked at each other. Beelzebub shrugged. They hadn’t been asked about they wanted to do in a long time. They were both used to following and giving orders.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s it like?” Dagon said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh... it’s creamy and, uh, ice-y. It’s like soft, frozen, sugary milk. You can get it in different flavors.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is there a pasta flavor?” Beelzebub asked. They were only familiar with pasta. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. You can usually get chocolate or vanilla. Sometimes there’s little things in it like sweets.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ll help you decide,” Aziraphale said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And no one had offered to help them with anything before, so Beelzebub and Dagon stared at the angel. It was more autonomy and assistance that they had had in their entire existence because, despite willingly revolting against Heaven and their strict regiment, they had lived by rules and high expectations sculpted by fear and Her writings. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They finally nodded together, unfamiliar with the feeling they both had in their chests and stomachs. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale ended up suggesting they start with vanilla, and they were handed two shallow cups with two scoops in each. They sat together at a patio table outside the shop where the sun could irritatingly beam in their eyes and the wind could whip their hair around. But as soon as they were settled and after Beelzebub fixed their hair for the third time, the wind died and clouds slid over the glaring sun. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon scooped a small bite on her spoon. Beelzebub followed suit and put it in their mouth. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was as Crowley had described it--soft, frozen, sugary milk. But it was lovely. It was creamy and rich and the perfect balance of sweet and bland. Beelzebub wondered what the other flavors tasted like, if they were equally sweet and had the same texture. They wondered what the cone that Aziraphale had tasted like. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They wanted to experiment with the sweets in the little jars inside the parlor tasted like when combined with the vanilla and the other flavors. The imagined a crunch to it if they added chocolate chips or a stickiness to it if they had chocolate sauce. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their tongue was cold and the sugar rested on the very back of it, encouraging them to eat more to remind of the fresh flavor. Their lips were sticky, and they licked the corners of their mouth to swipe what they had missed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ow.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon sat her spoon down and pressed her hand to her forehead. Her eyes were squeezed together in pain. Beelzebub touched her shoulder, forgetting about the frozen treat they had wanted a love affair with. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’ll pass,” Crowley said, smiling as he took another spoonful. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub glared. They knew the whole trip was a ploy. If they could, they would have set the entire table ablaze with Hell fire. They would sent a swarm of flies out. They would have called on other demons to pull Crowley and Aziraphale down to the deepest pit they had in Hell. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But then Dagon sat up seconds later, fine. “What was that?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s called a brain freeze,” Aziraphale said. “It happens if you eat something too cold too fast. It’s nothing harmful. Just annoying.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dagon pushed her ice cream away. “I think I’ll pass on this in the future.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale’s bottom lip stuck out. “I’m so sorry, dear. We should have warned you. It took us by surprise the first time it happened to us.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beelzebub made sure to take small, slow bites of their ice cream until it was gone and when they reached for Dagon’s half-melted, abandoned cup, no one said anything. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Grass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had a little fun in this one, using two different types of "grass."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley and Aziraphale insisted that they could find something interesting for both Beelzebub and Dagon that weekend. Really, they had managed to find very little that the four of them could do together in their attempts to rebuild the burnt bridge, but it would be different this time. They insisted. There was a plan in place for Dagon and Beelzebub to meet the angel-demon duo in their cottage around sundown, ready to stay in for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had taken a decent amount of convincing to get Beelzebub up and ready that evening. Dagon had braced herself with a jumper for the quickly-cooling temperatures and had picked out a layered outfit for Beelzebub. All it took was physically dragging their body off of the sofa and shoving a comb and clothes at them to make them cooperate. All in all, it wasn’t the most difficult time she had getting them up and ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll probably be a documentary,” Dagon said as Beelzebub dressed, imaging a long movie about some tyrannous dictator they were expected to find amusing (and probably would). “You can sleep through it if you hate it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I had known they were so boring on Earth, I wouldn’t have wasted so much energy harassing Crowley while he worked for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon couldn’t disagree. It was true that they both had expected their new enemies to be brutal and intense and were shocked to find that they were living as mundane humans. It was a waste of their supernatural abilities, they thought. But they let it go, as mundane was what they had to adjust to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale greeted them at the door and offered tea as Crowley rummaged around in a small cosmetics bag at the kitchen counter. Dagon sipped her tea and watched him pull out a thin electronic cigarette and a vial of taupe liquid. He examined the liquid before setting it in the cigarette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is that?” Dagon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked over his shoulder. “It’s a vape pen and THC oil.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s essentially marijuana,” Aziraphale said. “This is a lot less messy, though. I do have to give Crowley quite a bit of credit for finding this for us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley joined them at the table. Beelzebub had just gotten used to seeing the new cigarettes humans had. They had stared for too long the first time they saw a young woman take a pull from a chunk of black plastic and blow out a large cloud. Hell only had old-fashioned cigarettes that littered the floor of every meeting room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever tried it before?” Crowley asked. “With how much credit the humans give us for it, I don’t think I met another demon who partakes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub and Dagon shook their head. Aziraphale smiled at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try a little bit at first,” Aziraphale said. “We find it quite pleasing, but you may not enjoy it. It’s sort of a… it’s an out-of-body experience.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just press this button, breathe in, and let go,” Crowly said. “Hold it in your lungs for a bit before you exhale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He demonstrated, taking a decent amount of vapor in his mouth and passing the pen to Aziraphale while letting a wave of clouds fill the air around them. It didn’t have a particularly strong scent, Beelzebub thought, as they held the pen in the middle of the fog. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Press down and then breathe in—that’s it!” Aziraphale said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It burned their throat, and the smoke invading their lungs made them feel as if they were suffocating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub choked and coughed, their cloud coming out a lot less dignified. It was humiliating, and they shoved the pen at Dagon. Crowley and the angel were so relaxed doing it, and they couldn’t even hold the smoke in for longer than a second. The Prince of Hell should have been better with something so mild. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon coughed into her wrist and passed the pen on. “How is this supposed to make us feel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mellow,” Crowley said. “You’ll know it when you feel it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pen was back to Beelzebub. Aziraphale suggested it be their last turn, and Beelzebub, not knowing that it was said for their best interest and not because Aziraphale thought so lowly of them, decided to take a long, heavy drag. It was almost immediately released in another coughing fit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon passed the pen to Crowley without taking her turn. She turned to Beelzebub, who was trying to desperately find relief in the last few sips of sugary tea they had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get you water,” Aziraphale said. “It can be a pain before you’re used to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub chugged the glass of water as soon as it was in front of them. It eased the burning in their throat a little and calmed their coughing. Aziraphale and Crowley continued to puff on their pen, still unaffected by the piping hot vapor going into their mouths and down their lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub was suddenly aware that they couldn’t feel their legs. They rubbed their palms up and down their thighs and realized that they could barely feel their hands as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this supposed to happen?” they asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is what supposed to happen?” Crowley asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub didn’t respond. They tried focusing on how denim should have felt on their skin. They grabbed their jumper sleeve to double-check if they had lost all sensation. The jumper was soft but not as soft as they thought it should have been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked up at the others. Dagon was smiling at them. Crowley had lost interest in whatever was in front of him and was shrugging on his jacket and putting on his sunglasses. Aziraphale took one last drag and handed the pen back to Crowley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready?” Dagon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ready for what? Beelzebub didn’t know. “Yes,” they said, thinking it was better to play along than it was to try to form a question and follow clarification. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think they had a bit much,” Crowley said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub stood with Dagon and stuck by their side as they walked out the back door. Walking was interesting. While Beelzebub had no feeling, they had no problem telling their legs what to do. They easily put one leg in front of the other and managed a straight line. It was much easier to walk than after a few drinks. There was no stumbling or uncontrollable swaying or tripping over their own feet. The world was straight rather than spinning. They could manage, pulling themselves together for a few seconds at a time before getting lost in their brain again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is better,” they said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than what?” Dagon asked, leading them to sit on the grass in front of Crowley’s vegetable garden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jumper was soft. Beelzebub could sense how ridiculously smooth and fuzzy it was, trailing their hand up and down her forearm and then up her bicep. They wondered if she was warm enough when she shivered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley, in the distance (but really only a few feet away), was talking about the stars. The stars that he had read about on Earth and the ones he had made in Heaven. It was a lecture worthy of a university hall, but Beelzebub didn’t listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laid back on the grass. Dagon laid with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stars were brilliant. They were more vibrant than they ever had been, and Beelzebub felt that they could finally appreciate them. On Earth, usually, they were dull and small compared to what they saw in Heaven. And once seeing them up close, there was no point in looking at them from many many many many lightyears away. It was underwhelming, and it was mocking. Heaven kept all the pretty things of wonder to themselves, away from humans despite their claims for loving them so much. And humans had to do their best to reach for them when they were always cruelly just out of reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, the stars were </span>
  <em>
    <span>there. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>there </span>
  </em>
  <span>in front of Beelzebub again, beautiful against the black backdrop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence. At some point, Crowley had stopped talking, and they were all left to lay in quiet and appreciate the stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe an hour had passed. Maybe it had only been a few minutes. Time was already a fuzzy concept to a being that had been around for thousands of years and watched the world develop from their throne under the dirt of the Earth. But they didn’t mind it now. Time was abstract, and they were happy to live the rest of the night like that—a little sleepy, feeling the threads of Dagon’s sweater in their hand and the prickle of grass under their neck. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sweat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've lost track of what day we're on, but I know that today's prompt is "sweat." I've been looking forward to this one since the start!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Beelzebub knew that summers on earth were hot, but they didn't expect them to be absolutely stifling. They were drenched in sweat and any fabric touching their body made them feel like they were suffocating. They had kicked off their blankets and pulled off their sleep bottoms, fighting the urge to pull off their top as well and lay naked on top of their bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wish we could get your fever down."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon pressed a cold flannel to their forehead and cheek. They moaned. The relief was temporary, and the flannel quickly warmed against their burning skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is Hell," Beelzebub mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I always thought Hell was a bit chilly myself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flannel was cold again and pressed to their neck. Water dripped down their skin and onto their bedsheets. They wished to be soaked in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leave it to you to catch the human influenza in the summer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How was Beelzebub supposed to know that they were also susceptible to human illness? And how were they supposed to know that washing their hands after grocery store visits and not touching their eyes and mouth was supposed to prevent them from getting sick? They didn't know any better. They still believed in humours until a year ago, and now there was something called “germs” that could take them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dagon?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't feel well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon smiled down at them. "I know, my prince."</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dagon worried when Beelzebub's fever climbed higher as the night dragged on. Hour by hour, their temperature rose and they became less lucid. They stared at the wall with glassy eyes and barely responded to Dagon as she talked to them and helped them out of their sleep shirt and eventually picked up her phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought maybe you'd know more about our corporations on Earth. Since you've both gone native."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon spat the last sentence out, but neither Aziraphale nor Crowley reacted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where are they?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley pulled his sunglasses off, looking unimpressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon led them to the bedroom where Beelzebub laid on top of their mattress, clad only in a pair of boxers. Their face was flushed, and their hair was pushed back, slick with sweat. They didn’t acknowledge the three people that walked around the bed and stared down at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh dear…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How long have they been sick?" Crowley asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A few days."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale touched their forehead. His eyes widened, and he looked to Crowley. "They're </span>
  <em>
    <span>far </span>
  </em>
  <span>too hot." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already picking Beelzebub up before Dagon could stop him. Beelzebub moaned and coughed. Crowley, already knowing what Aziraphale was going to do, left the bedroom and let his long legs quickly get him down the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've never felt a body get this warm before. I doubt humans can live like this," Aziraphale said to Dagon. "The poor thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley had turned into the bathroom and was filling the bathtub with lukewarm water. He moved out of the way and let Aziraphale carry Beelzebub closer to the shallow water and running tap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub, finally aware that they had been moved, looked at the bathtub and then up at Aziraphale. They grabbed his shirt front and shook their head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dagon," they croaked, throat torn from coughing through the week. "Dagon... help!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tried fighting against Aziraphale as he lowered them down. They tried yelling for Dagon, who helplessly watched and realized the trauma an angel and a bathtub together carried. It was like a cruel joke. They were facing their own failed execution style for their own mercy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have no intention of hurting you," Aziraphale said, lowering them in as the water shut off by itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tensed up and dug their nails into Aziraphale’s arms, grabbing his jacket in their fists. The last of their remaining strength went into ripping the sleeves at the seams. Then, their body began to go limp as their breathing came in heaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear, could you try calming them?” Aziraphale said, examining his jacket with a huff. The sleeves were barely held onto the body by threads, though they had been pulled down his biceps. He looked up at Dagon, who stared back. “Please? We’ll get nowhere with them if they’re panicking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon nodded and sat on the edge of the tub. Beelzebub looked to be nothing more than a scared animal, shivering and soaked by their previous thrashing. Their eyes were wide, and their breathing was erratic. And Dagon didn’t know that she could feel so bad for someone else that her heart hurt, but she did when she heard a little cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re alright,” she said. “They want to… help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon slid to the floor and slung her arm over the edge of the tub. They clung to it. “I’m not sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we leave?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon rotated her legs to move her other arm into the water. She cupped water in her free hand and ran it up their chest to their collarbone, letting her fingers linger. She didn’t know if they meant leave Earth, the bathroom, or a delirious area Beelzebub had dreamt up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where would we go?” she asked. “With you so ill?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub didn’t answer. Dagon continued dragging water over their chest and arms until they had calmed and their body had stilled. Occasionally, she would whisper that they were alright or make a quiet cooing noise to no response. When it seemed that Beelzebub was close to falling asleep in the water, she helped them stand and carried them through the hallway, back to bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point, Aziraphale and Crowley had left the bathroom but had apparently changed the bedding from sweat-soaked sheets to lighter, dry ones. Beelzebub was dried before Dagon laid them down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll need fluids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon jumped. She turned around. Aziraphale stood in the doorway, holding a glass of something clear and fizzy with Crowley behind them. Aziraphale stepped forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if their stomach is upset, but just to be safe, I brought something that would calm it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He handed Dagon the glass. A white and red-striped straw that bent at the top stuck out. She held it to Beelzebub’s lips and smiled as they took a few sips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I noticed they weren’t producing any new sweat,” Aziraphale said. “And that can be dangerous. It means their corporation is dehydrated, and it’ll cause more problems if they don’t start sweating again. Try getting them to finish that soon and move on to another glass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glass was rather full and Beelzebub was quite uncooperative. She gelt their hand. It was dry and rough. Their lips were chapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, er, we’ll stay here for a few hours. We’ll be out of the way, but you may need more help if their condition doesn’t improve.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be in your sitting room,” Crowley said and dug in his jacket pocket. “And we have paracetamol. They’ll need to take two pills every six hours. Should help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale passed it over, waited a minute with his hands laced together in front of him, and then nodded. Crowley took him by the elbow and led him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Dagon said. “Two pills and fluids.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook out the white, oblong pills into her hand and pressed them passed Beelzebub’s lips, followed by the straw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just until you start sweating again.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Melting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's day 22! Maybe I'll catch up on the other days at some point. </p><p>Warning for littering and boobs.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I don’t know why you like being here so often.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon squeezed water out of her hair, letting it pool into the sand next to Beelzebub’s towel. Beelzebub sneered and leaned away from the splashin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t swum in a century,” she said. “I’m going to take every chance I get while we’re here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub pulled their legs up to their chest. Though they had been sitting under an umbrella, it didn’t protect them from feeling the sticky, thick heat around them. Even dressing for the weather, as Dagon had insisted they do, helped little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were in tacky, floral swim trunks and a loose t-shirt while Dagon wore a one-piece that looked to be similar to one for professional matches rather than a day on a beach. Beelzebub liked how tight it was for personal reasons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want an ice lolly?” Dagon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had brought a small cooler to pack water and frozen treats. Dagon dug into it and pulled out a strawberry ice lolly and a bottle of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll make you feel better,” she said, handing it to Beelzebub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plastic wrapper was tossed aside and tumbled down the sand. Dagon unscrewed the cap of her bottle and set it aside, soon to be lost. She tipped the water back and gulped half of it down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub absently took a lick of their ice lolly while they watched Dagon swipe her hand across her mouth. Freckles were beginning to pop up over her pale skin. They had previously covered her nose and cheeks, and Beelzebub noticed new ones across her shoulders and down her chest. They plunged down beneath her suit, right at the top of her breasts before they were squashed down by the tight material.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub liked the peak of cleavage they were given. They had watched Dagon change that morning and carefully pull her breasts up into the built-in padding of the suit before throwing on her cover-up. It was painfully modest. It covered the little bit of breast and Dagon’s thighs, which Beelzebub also adored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re melting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your ice lolly is everywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strawberry syrup was dripping down Beelzebub’s hand and onto their towel. They looked down at it just in time to watch half of the lolly fall off the stick like a glacier falling apart due to global warming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub dropped the rest of it into the stand and shook the syrup off their hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect reason to get into the water now,” Dagon said. “You’ll get clean then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub began to protest. Dagon grabbed their sticky hand and pulled them up and away from their melted lolly. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Petrichor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this was yesterday's prompt (day 24), but I forgot to finish it and put it up.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Beelzebub only rose from bed when their stomach twisted in hunger pangs. They tried laying face-down with their fist balled up and pressed into their gut, but they eventually couldn’t stand the nauseating feeling any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon smiled at them when they walked into the kitchen. She always smiled. In Hell, it was evil and unnerving. On Earth, she looked—and Beelzebub hated this word—quite sweet. There was still something a little unsettling about how wide she could grin, but her teeth and rosy cheeks now took away most of the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?" She knew the answer. It had been three days since their last meal. "I was looking at this new magazine, and I think I found a breakfast you may like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon pushed her cooking magazine towards them. A full page showed a plate of waffles, topped with strawberries, blueberries, confectionary sugar, whipped cream, and a sprinkling of nutmeg. Beelzebub sat down at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I have it without all the berries? And with more sugar?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Would you like tea with it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub nodded. Dagon took the magazine to the counter and pulled out a plate and a mug. Even though everything she prepared for Beelzebub (besides teas and glasses of wine) were miracled into existence, she liked pretending that she contributed something by-hand by pulling out plates and cutlery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub looked out the window. It was dark outside, though it was close to noon. Water dripped down the glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it rain?” they asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It rained all morning.” Dagon placed the kettle on the stove. Despite knowing about the existence of electric kettles, she didn’t like them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rained in England often, but it had been unusually dry that week. Humans adored the break from the usual gloomy weather and hurried to the water and went on their picnics and took their walks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised it didn’t wake you up,” Dagon said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub walked to the backdoor. Dagon spared them a glance before returning back to the cooking magazine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stepped outside. Their bare foot touched the wet patio stone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air smelled lovely. It was earthy and musky. It was everything a demon loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stepped onto the grass, satisfied with how the blades felt between their toes and the little bit of mud that clung to them. Moving up to Earth via the ground wasn’t their most preferred method of transportation, though it was the quickest. It left them covered in dirt and dust occasionally bugs. Not that they minded the bugs. It was mostly the dirt in their clothes they cared about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon’s garden was nearly flooded. The plants were dripping and a little limp. The dirt in the box had turned to thin mud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub stepped into it, a wicked smile on their face. Their foot sunk in. They pressed it further into the dirt and shoved their other in right by a tomato plant. It was a childish glee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was earthier in the garden, over the plants and worms and beetles. Beelzebub wanted to dive down into it all and bury themselves into the mess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plants were pelted by a few raindrops and soon Beelzebub was feeling it on their head. The rain picked up. The mud became thinner. Beelzebub sunk deeper. They were covered in mud up to their ankles and maybe if they stood still for long enough, allowing themselves to become drenched, they would sink down to the very core of the Earth. And maybe that would be close enough to Hell. Maybe someone could grab their leg and pull them down to their throne and into their suit and in front of their demons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked over their shoulder. Dagon stood in the doorway, face twisted in anger. One arm held her cardigan tight to her chest. The other was frozen in front of them, gesturing to her trodden-on plants </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of my garden!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub pulled one foot up with a squelch. The hole they left behind was quickly filled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hopped out of the box and trailed mud through the grass and into the kitchen. Waffles sat on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re soaked,” Dagon said. She pulled Beelzebub’s wet, stringy hair out of their face. “What am I going to do with you? You’re like a Hell pup.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It smelled nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon sighed. She looked down at Beelzebub’s now-black feet and puddle they had left behind. She didn’t look mad anymore. Just tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go get a shower. I’ll keep your breakfast warm and… clean all of this up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Demons never apologized nor forgave one another, but the more time the two of them spent on Earth, the more they felt compelled to give it a try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub stepped under the hot stream of water. The rain and dirt ran off of them and rose with the steam. It smelled like the Earth. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Marshmallow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was for day 27: marshmallow. </p><p>Today is technically the end of the challenge, but I've fallen behind. With that and the way that this chapter ended, I'm going to continue updating when I can. </p><p>Minor warning for domestic abuse in this one!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Beelzebub didn’t answer the question when Aziraphale asked. They rolled their eyes and looked away, focusing on the trees in the far distance. If they were lucky, a bear would come out and maul them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>like sweet things, right?” Crowley asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” they finally said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale smiled and dove into a picnic basket he had prepared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon had agreed on the night out before Beelzebub even knew about the invitation. They were in the middle of a lovely nap when Dagon pulled their sheets back and laid out a warm outfit for them. She had told them that they only had an hour to get ready, and Beelzebub, half-asleep, pulled on the outfit and ate a piece of toast before realizing that it was evening-time and there had been no aforementioned plans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, they sat in front of a campfire on top of a cliff. Dagon draped a blanket over the both of them and pressed close into their side to keep them both warm and in-line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are called s’mores,” Aziraphale said. “But we have to make them ourselves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like too much work,” Beelzebub said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s quite enjoyable! Here you are.” Aziraphale passed two sticks with marshmallows stuck to tops down to them. “And you hold it over the fire to heat it up, and then you lay it in between these crackers and chocolate. Like a sandwich.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon took the plates with the prepared graham crackers and chocolate squares as Beelzebub shoved their marshmallow into the fire. They did enjoy sandwiches. And copious amounts of sugar. They would think of something to blame the angel for later as the “s’mores” seemed to appeal to multiple of their interests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The marshmallow caught fire. Beelzebub pulled it out and took their plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it done?” they asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… blow it out before you try laying it down,” Aziraphale said. “We don’t want any accidents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon blew a puff of air at the marshmallow. The fire died and left behind a black crust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not supposed to burn it,” Crowley said. “It’s supposed to be toasted.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still perfectly edible,” Aziraphale said. “They can try again if they’d like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub laid their marshmallow on the bed of chocolate and scraped it off the rod with their free cracker. They squished it together until the marshmallow oozed out of the sides. Another interest had been satisfied: sticky messes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I just eat it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub took a large bite. Marshmallow and melted covered their fingers and lips and smeared across the corners of their mouths onto their cheeks. It was the type of sweet that burned one’s throat and left a coating of sugar behind on their tongue. It would lead to Beelzebub feeling sick in an hour if they didn’t eat in moderation. It was perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dagon cringed at the mess. “Do you have to eat like a human toddler?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub shoved the rest of the snack in their mouth, ensuring that plenty of it ended up on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to choke,” Dagon warned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a bite of their own. She had taken care to lightly toast her marshmallow and place it neatly inside. It was a dainty bite. Marshmallow stretched out in strings as she pulled it away and snapped onto her chin and hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not worth the mess,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed a napkin and wiped herself clean before passing the rest to Beelzebub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not burning the marshmallow was a good decision. There was no grittiness or smokey flavor. It was just that much sweeter. Beelzebub’s throat was on fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A metal water bottle was pressed into their hands. Dagon used her to wet a napkin and begin scrubbing at Beelzebub’s face. Normally, they wouldn’t mind being cleaned up by Dagon. It wasn’t unusual. She organized their files in Hell and cleaned up their messes on Earth. But they heard Aziraphale laugh and coo behind his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>sweet of you two,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it angered Beelzebub. They weren’t baby animals to be fawned over and patronized. They were demons to be feared. They had been more powerful angels than Aziraphale could ever strive to be, and they had made Hell what it was as demons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub swatted Dagon’s hand away, open palm slapping her wrist. She flinched back and held her arm back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Crowley snapped. “Don’t treat her like that! Why would you do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that hung over them all was thick. No one moved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub tried reaching out to Dagon but stopped themselves. Their cheeks burned so much that their throat felt fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll go back to the house,” Dagon whispered, calmly rising to her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me accompany you,” Aziraphale said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub watched Aziraphale and Dagon gather their belongings and silently begin walking down the trail. They turned to Crowley, who steadily glared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was low even for a demon,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the Hell was that even about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley was right. Demons wouldn’t stoop so low. They could start wars and tempt priests. But they would never hit a partner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beelzebub felt sick. They thought about going back to the house and finding Dagon nervous and hurt. They thought about her in bed only to avoid having to talk to them. It was sickening. They were a grade-A cunt. Dagon left Hell </span>
  <em>
    <span>for them </span>
  </em>
  <span>and they had the audacity to hit her in front of the people she had turned to for help. Help </span>
  <em>
    <span>for them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know.” Crowley shoved everything back into the picnic basket. “I think you’re beyond helping at this point. You’ve had three people try to get you out and feel better about your whole situation. Dagon’s done </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you these past three months, and you repay her by hitting her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley stood with his basket. He unscrewed the lid to one of the water bottles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask for help,” Beelzebub said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only to defend themselves. Make it seem like Aziraphale and Crowley had crossed a boundary. Make it seem like they were part of the problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shook his head. He poured the water over the fire. Steam and smoke flared up as the fire dwindled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe that’s your biggest problem. You don’t know when to let someone help rather than keep fucking everything up.” </span>
</p>
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